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Rusty knew the cave was here, the map told him so. Avoiding the red rocks that littered the landscape, he weaved his way on. Brown-red peaks rose to the blue jean washed sky and the sun beat down like a determined enemy.

He felt the sand shift under him. Rusty tried to go back but the sand movement dragged him down. He landed heavily, drifting in and out, luckily, he was only bruised and in shock when he came fully to.

He looked up and saw the entrance to the cave ahead of him. He had found it after all.

Balancing the old guitar on my knee, I still couldn’t believe the bargain I had gotten. Even with the new strings, I still felt worried that I had ripped the charity shop off. A smile crept on to my face at the two old biddies that had stood arguing behind the counter. They both had had wispy pinked hair and glasses perched on their noses. Their wrinkle faces had been so animated and their lipstick dabbed mouths popping like fishes’. I think they had both been wearing blue pinafores too.

I had stayed quiet and a few minutes later, the first one had keyed up the till and demanded a fiver off me. Trying not to laugh, I handed it over and received back the guitar. Now in my one-bedroom apartment, the instrument played beautifully. Strumming the old strings made me realise how worn and too twinge they sounded. The guitar sang of how it had been loved and played every day.

Having replaced the strings, I decided to dust the inside sections and then wipe some bee’s wax over the body. Carefully dusting, my fingers hit something. I wrapped the cloth around it and pulled it out. There was a piece of paper folded into a small square. Placing everything down, I folded the paper and saw it was a hand drawn map at the centre of which was taped a coin.

I pulled the coin off and looked it at. On both sides was the fading image of a guitar. I had never seen a coin like that before. I looked down at the map and saw the title, Best places to busk. It was a map of Manchester city centre with roads covered in different symbols. Running the coin over my fingers, I turned the paper and saw the shapes listed in a key. I had never busked and I only played the guitar for pleasure.

Still though, everyone needed the extra money these days. Placing the map and coin on the table, I picked up the guitar and finished off cleaning it. Afterwards and before I got ready for bed, I looked up Manchester’s rules about busking and realised that I wouldn’t need a licence and as long as I stuck to a few simple rules, I could perform. That made me more determined and with tomorrow being Saturday, I decided to give it a shot.

Arriving in the city centre, I followed the map to a seemly quiet street in the Northern Quarter. It was the nearest spot to me, but also the key listed it as a good place to start. Standing under the street sign, I put the guitar case on the floor and pulled out the instrument. I spent a few minutes sorting things out, then I placed a handful of coins in the case and began playing.

Even though the area had seemed empty, moments after starting up people began walking passed me, dropping coins at my feet. I nodded my thanks and carried on playing. I wasn’t that good a singer, but strangely the urge to start adding the lyrics came to me. My voice rose and fell with the guitar as more people came by.

Forty minutes later, I paused and looked down at the shining coins. There was a lot more then I had expected. I sipped some water and pulled out the map and strange coin. Looking for the next location, I rubbed the coin between my fingers. There was another street at the back of the Northern Quarter, outside the cinema.

I headed over and set up to play again. The same thing happened, only this time a small crowd gathered to watch me. The jingle of coins became mixed in with the notes of the guitar and my voice. I told myself I wasn’t just doing it for the money, I wanted to entertain and inspire. As that thought curled around me like a sleepy kitten, I realised that it was the first time I had thought such a thing about my hobby.

I took a break at lunch and decided to place all the money I had earned into the rucksack I had brought with me. I had made over thirty pounds already. Shocked, I went to get a sandwich and on the way out I give some money to a homeless man. After I had eaten I studied the map, placing the next three street names into my mind. The first was on Market Street, the second Spring Gardens and third St Ann’s Square.

I went to the first and began playing. I seemed to draw in an even bigger crowd then before and my confidence grew. The rest of the afternoon was spent like that. I moved around from street to street playing and singing, coins dropping my way. I didn’t want to pack up and go home, but my fingers and throat were hurting too much.

I placed the guitar, map and coin on top of alot of coins in the case and went to catch the bus. I dozed off and awoke just before my stop. Getting off and arriving at my building, the only thought in my head was to shower and change. It wasn’t until I was getting ready for bed, that I decided to count up the money I had made.

Seventy pounds and sixty-seven pence were stacked in coins on my coffee table. I sat back and smiled. That map and coin had been useful. I doubt I would have been able to make that kind of money on my own. I should do something useful with it though. I earned an all right income from my full job already and though the extra odd pounds a week would be good. There were more people out there at needed it.

I bagged up the money and decided to look into local homeless charities I could give the money too. Picking up the guitar, I inspected it more closely, but could see no markings or anything. As for the map and coin, there was nothing else to them. Maybe it was just coincidence and had nothing to do with magic or supernatural elements?

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